Later that evening, with Jordan tucked in his arms sound asleep, Woody stared out the window of her apartment. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to leave her here alone to deal with the last trimester of the pregnancy. From what he had heard from other officers with pregnant wives and girlfriends, that was the hardest time. The backaches, the weight gain, and just the general uncomfortableness of carrying around another human being. And he definitely didn't want her giving birth without him. He sighed and ran his fingers through his beard.

"I'll be glad when you can shave that thing off," Jordan said. "It tickled at first, but then it scratched." She motioned to the slight rash along the side of her face.

"Did I wake you?"

"Nah. I need to use the bathroom. Baby's kicking the bladder again."

Woody was going to have to leave. Slowly, he got up and put on his clothes. Jordan watched him from the bathroom doorway. "You need to go now," she stated. It wasn't a question. It was a fact.

Woody tried to smile at her and failed miserably. "Yeah, but it should be over soon."

"That will be nice, really nice." Her voice was catching in her throat.

"Look, sweetie, I'm trying to wrap this up as soon as I can."

"I know. I'm not blaming you for anything. I just miss you....and I would like you to be here when the baby is born."

Woody cursed himself for the umpteenth time that day for taking the undercover position. "I'll be in touch with you as much as possible during the next few weeks. I'm going to tell my supervisor about this and see if he can pull me out sooner."

Jordan shook her head. "No. No, Woody, I'll be fine. Women have been giving birth for centuries."

"But I need to be here...," he began, wanting to tell her that she had never given birth before and any number of things could happen.

"No. When my time comes, I'll call your supervisor and let him know. Maybe you can pull out then – at least be here for the birth."

Jordan walked him to the door. "Please be careful," she pleaded softly, taking his face in her hands. Woody pulled her to him.

"Oh, I will be. I've got a lot to come home to." And with a quick kiss and a pat to abdomen, he was gone.

But he didn't go back to his assignment. He had a couple of stops he had to make before he went back undercover. The first stop was a jewelry store and the second was Garrett Macey's apartment.

Garret answered the insistent knocking on the door. It was late. "Who in the hell?" he wondered and opened the door a crack. The blonde man outside his door was not familiar to him until a Boston PD badge and ID was shoved in his face. "Woody?" Garret asked, incredulously.

There would have been little way that he would have recognized the young detective on the street. Woody's hair was bright blonde and spiked radically. He had three earrings in his left ear and one in the right. He had grown a beard that appeared unkempt – on purpose. "Come in."

Woody stepped inside. "I haven't got but a minute, but I need to talk with you."

Garrett motioned for him to come inside to the kitchen. "What's up? Can I get you a beer? Have you seen Jordan?" Garret kept his back to Woody, not wanting to give Jordan's secret away, but trying to judge how much Woody may know.

"Yeah, I've seen Jordan and a beer would be great."

Garrett sat the bottle down in front of the detective. "So you know."

Woody sighed and nearly ran his fingers through the spikes, but stopped. Once again he fingered his beard. "I know. How's she doing, Garrett? She tells me she's fine, but ..." the young man's voice trailed off. Garrett thought he heard it break.

"Jordan is doing as well as can be expected. She's gaining weight. Her back and feet hurt. She can be moody as hell, but all of that is to be expected. The doctors say everything is progressing normally."

"How's work going for her?"

"Well, Nigel and Bug have stepped up to cover some things she no longer can do, but they're not complaining. She's got help lifting the bodies, so she doesn't hurt herself. I'm stopping her from going out in the field next month, unless it's something pretty cut and dried."

Woody peeled the label off of the bottle and lowered his eyes. "Can I ask you a couple of favors?"

"Sure, Woody."

Woody wrote down a number and handed it to Garrett. "I know she has a great support system with you and the folks at the morgue. She told me that one of you goes with her to every doctor's appointment. I want to be there, but she's not letting me pull off this assignment." He rose from the kitchen table and walked to the door.

Garrett nodded as he followed Woody out. Jordan didn't want Woody to quit and he knew it.

"This is the number to my supervisor. If anything, and I mean anything, happens, call him immediately and he'll get in touch with me. I'm going to tell him about Jordan and the baby tonight. And when Jordan goes into labor, call me. Then. Don't wait."

"I can do that," Garret replied. "What else?"

Woody handed him a small jewelry box and an envelope. "Give her this tomorrow morning."

"Don't you think you need to do this in person?"

"Yeah, but I don't know when that could be. I have to go now. They're waiting on me."

And with that, Woody was gone. He climbed into his jeep and left. A minute later his cell phone rang.

"You back in the loop yet?" the supervisor asked.

"Yeah, getting back in now."

"The emergency okay?"

"Not really, chief."

"What's up, anything I can do?"

Woody cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear as he switched lanes. "Yeah, as a matter of fact there is."

"Name it."

"The emergency is Jordan Cavanaugh. I'm going to be a father in March."

There was dead silence on the line. Finally the chief cleared his throat. "That doesn't give us much time."

"Then we need to work faster."